


An Egg-cellent Christmas Gift

by TheDragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Christmas, Christmas Presents, Dragons, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27843319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragon/pseuds/TheDragon
Summary: "You... got me an egg for Christmas."Merlin stares down at the sculpture in his arms, unsure of what to think. To be fair to Arthur, itisbeautiful, made of pure white stone carved in the shape of scales, decorated with thin, golden lines."It's a decoration," Arthur says, oddly defensive."An egg," Merlin returns, because this is absolutely perfect. He's had plenty of reasons to tease Arthur over the years—especially when it comes to Christmas gifts, because Arthur is horrible at giving good presents—but this one might just take the top.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 216
Collections: WinterKnights 2020 - a Merlin Winter/Holiday Fest





	An Egg-cellent Christmas Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Using bad puns as titles? It's more likely than you think *ducks rotten tomatoes*
> 
>  **Prompt:** Character A gifts Character B with what they think is a very pretty ornament for Christmas, only for it to turn out to be a live dragon egg.

"You… got me an egg for Christmas."

Merlin stares down at the sculpture in his arms, unsure of what to think. To be fair to Arthur, it _is_ beautiful, made of pure white stone carved in the shape of scales, decorated with thin, golden lines. There isn't a single blemish in sight, which in Merlin's experience, limited though it may be, is unusual. Most things you find on store shelves have _some_ sort of imperfection, but this… this egg is…

"It's a decoration," Arthur says, oddly defensive. He's got his arms crossed in front of his chest and what looks to be the beginning of an oddly endearing pout on his face.

"An egg," Merlin returns, because this is absolutely _perfect_. He's had plenty of reasons to tease Arthur over the years— _especially_ when it comes to Christmas gifts, because Arthur is _horrible_ at giving good presents—but this one might just take the top.

"Yes, fine." Arthur rolls his eyes. "It's an egg. Happy?"

"Delighted," Merlin replies, unable to fight down the grin that's spreading across his face. "But you're no longer allowed to tease me about my obsession with dragons now that you're enabling it."

Arthur looks at him in a way that can only be described as patronising. "Of course."

It's obvious he's not going to be keeping that promise. Merlin huffs and turns his gaze back to the dragon egg in his hands. The stone has grown warmer over the course of their conversation; it probably leeched the heat from Merlin's own hands, though that would be a miracle in and of itself considering how cold they always are. _Damn_ his poor circulation.

"I'm not sure where to put it," Merlin confesses, trailing his index finger over the outline of a scale. He startles when the egg vibrates in his hands, the sensation there and gone in the blink of an eye. "It's pretty big and delicate. I don't want anything to happen to it."

Arthur's mocking gaze turns into something softer, warmer, _fonder_. He seems to be looking at Merlin like that more and more often these days. It never fails to make the butterflies in Merlin's stomach take flight.

He's going to give Arthur time until the New Year. If he doesn't ask him out by then, Merlin will take matters into his own hands—and he's already got plans. Great, big plans that involve trips to the zoo and parks and gardens, and—most importantly—lots of hand-holding and snogging.

Arthur will doubtless be more amenable to the latter, rather than the former, but that doesn’t matter. Merlin can be very persuasive when needs be.

"Put it on top of your dresser, for all I care," Arthur says, bringing Merlin's attention back to the conversation. "It'll suit your bedroom decor perfectly."

Doubtlessly, he's referring to the numerous dragon posters and figurines Merlin has spread out all over the place.

Merlin narrows his eyes. Arthur is going to have to work on that attitude if he ever wants to regain access to Merlin's bedroom, because that comment has single handedly revoked any privileges he may have previously been granted.

"I'll put it on top of the fireplace," Merlin decides. It's the warmest place in the house; he won't have to worry about the egg getting cold.

Merlin blinks. He's not sure where that thought came from.

Arthur grunts in acquiescence. Merlin brushes past him as he heads for the fireplace, catching a whiff of Arthur's cologne and going a bit cross-eyed when Arthur reaches out to caress Merlin's arm. The egg shakes in his hands and Merlin tightens his grip on it, suddenly terrified that he'll accidentally let it go.

The flames in the fireplace are roaring, reaching heights he hasn't seen them reach before. The way they move, twining around each other sinuously, makes it seem like they're calling to him. Their warmth caresses his skin despite him being all the way on the other side of the room.

The fire and the dragon egg in his arms are the only things in the world that matter.

He walks to the fireplace almost as though he's in a trance, barely aware of Arthur following behind him. The flames beckon and call, and the egg grows warmer, so warm that it's almost _scorching_ —

"Merlin!" Arthur's shout snaps him out of his daze. Suddenly, he's wrenched back and away from the flames, and falls arse-first onto the rug. Arthur crouches next to him, face pale despite being bathed in orange light.

"What the hell?!" he shouts, eyes wide and terrified. Merlin has never seen him like this, not once, despite how long they've known each other. The furrowed, concerned brow, the ugly twist to his lips…

"What?" Merlin blinks, turning his head from side to side. Arthur is still beside him, still talking, still _shouting_ , because what on earth was Merlin _thinking_ , reaching into the fire like that?! He could have been burned, would have had to go to a hospital and—

And the only thing Merlin can think about is picking the egg off the rug and doing it again. He rolls over onto his side, reaching for it—thank _goodness_ it's all right; he doesn't know what he would have done otherwise—and moves under Arthur's spread arms, headed right back for the fire.

It's like a pull he can't resist—doesn't _want_ to resist. The fire is still calling to him beckoning, telling him to come closer, to entrust it with the egg and he can't. He can't _resist_.

This time, Arthur doesn't get over his shock quickly enough to pull him back. Without even a second of hesitation, Merlin thrusts both arms into the fire and gently places the egg down atop the burning wood. It's barely out of his hands before Arthur is hauling him back by the shoulders again, this time dragging him over to the sofa on the other side of the room.

He doesn't bother shouting this time, and it's just as well, because Merlin doubts he would be able to make out what Arthur is saying. He lets Arthur tug his hands forward, to look them over, checking for any sign of injury, and the whole time, Merlin's own gaze is firmly fixed on the roaring fire.

"You're fine," Arthur says, his voice soft and small and confused. "But I don't… I don't understand. You had your hands _in_ the _fire_. How are you all right?!"

A sharp crack from across the room draws his attention away from Merlin's hands, though he doesn't relinquish the grip he has on Merlin's wrists. Honestly, if it wasn't for that, Merlin doesn't think he would be able to stop himself from running right back to the fire.

"Wha—" Arthur says, looking between Merlin and the fireplace in complete confusion. His expression clears, however, when the egg breaks in half. "The heat must have cracked it." He rubs his thumb over the inside of Merlin's wrist, just above the pulse point.

"No," Merlin says. His words don't feel like his own, his _voice_ doesn't feel like his own. It's grown all hoarse and gravelly, not at all like it normally is. " _Drakon_."

Arthur looks at him as though he's grown a second head, but he doesn't have the time to ask any questions because at that moment, a squeak echoes throughout the room. Arthur's head immediately whips back in the direction of the fire.

Both pieces of the egg have fallen to the sides, and in the place where it once sat now sits a small, white dragon. It chirps when it sees them looking, then it starts twisting its body from side to side, looking not unlike a dog trying to get water out of its fur. It uncurls its wings and tries taking a step forward, only to trip over it's own too-large paws and tumble down the logs, ending up on the floor covered in soot from head to toe.

It sneezes.

Merlin immediately tears himself away from Arthur and runs towards the creature, falling to his knees in front of it. The baby dragon looks up and blinks, it's bright blue eyes curious. Carefully, Merlin holds out one of his hands to let the creature familiarise itself with his scent, but instead of sniffing at it, the dragon digs its tiny little claws into the material and climbs his sleeve all the way up onto his shoulder. Merlin leans his head to the side to accommodate it.

"That's a dragon," Arthur says, pointing at them from the other side of the room. "A real, living, _breathing_ dragon."

"Yeah," Merlin says, somehow not surprised despite only just finding out they exist. He reaches one hand up to touch the tip of the dragon's— _Aithusa's_ , because that's what her name is—nose. This time, it's Arthur's turn to look on, dazed. He stretches his arm out to the side, looking for something to steady himself on. Merlin rushes over to him and catches him before he falls.

Arthur never once tears his eyes away from where Aithusa is perched on Merlin's shoulder, no doubt spreading soot over every part of him she touches. As Merlin carefully lowers Arthur to the sofa, she stands up on her hind legs, reaching up to tug at Merlin’s hair. He doesn't have the heart to reprimand her.

"How are you so calm about this?!" Arthur asks, staring at Aithusa like she's nothing short of the antichrist. He makes no move to touch her—in fact, he seems intent on keeping far away from her. Unfortunately for him, Aithusa has other ideas.

She launches herself off Merlin's shoulder and tumbles straight down onto Arthur's lap, letting out a startled chirp as she goes.

Arthur freezes.

"I think she likes you," Merlin says, smiling down at him. Some small, distant part of him wonders why he's so calm about this when, by all accounts, he should be in no better a state than Arthur. There's a _dragon_ in his home. An actual _dragon_. A creature said only to exist in storybooks, and the only thing Merlin is capable of feeling is sheer, unrestrained delight.

He doesn't know why this situation doesn't seem at all odd to him. Maybe, what with having grown up surrounded by magic—both his own and other people's—he's learned to take such weird occurrences in stride. Besides, it feels so _right_ to have this little creature here, to have helped hatch her from her egg. It feels… it's _exhilarating_.

It's like all his childhood dreams have come true, and he can't help but to think that maybe the obsession he's always had with dragons is not entirely without cause. Oh, if only his mum could see him now…

Arthur looks like he's _this_ close to fainting when Aithusa scrambles up his shirt to get closer to his face. Reluctantly, Merlin pulls her away before she gets her pinprick teeth too close to Arthur's nose.

"No, Aithusa," he says, placing her back on his shoulder. He gets an annoyed huff for his troubles, but she obediently stays put, allowing Merlin to turn his attention back to Arthur.

"Arthur," he asks, slowly waving a hand in front of Arthur's face. When that doesn't garner a reaction, he drops to his knees between Arthur's spread legs so that they're at eye-level. It puts Aithusa a bit closer to Arthur than he would like, but letting her run rampant around the house would be no better—he doesn't particularly want his house to end up engulfed by flames because of one errant hiccup.

"I bought you a dragon," Arthur says, dissolving into hysterical laughter, which only makes Merlin more concerned. "I bought you a _dragon_."

Merlin carefully reaches out and places his hand on Arthur's shoulder. He's debating whether Arthur can be left on his own long enough for Merlin to temporarily hide Aithusa away somewhere safe and call Gaius—he used to be a doctor, he would know what to do right now—when Arthur clumsily lurches forward and smashes their lips together.

It's unexpected, though not entirely unpleasant. Yes, their teeth clank together and their noses smash into each other, but once Merlin turns his head, once he opens his mouth to let Arthur in, the kiss turns bone-meltingly pleasant. He thinks he could do this forever, held by Arthur's hands atop his arms, Arthur's thighs tight around his waist. The bedroom isn't that far, and really, Arthur can be forgiven for his earlier teasing comments if only he'll—

Aithusa chirps again, and they break apart.

"Not that I didn't enjoy that," Merlin says, having trouble focusing enough to make the right words come out of his mouth. "But are you sure you're feeling all right? It's only that you've ne—"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur says. He makes as if he's going to kiss Merlin again, but then his eyes land on the dragon perched atop Merlin's shoulder, looking up at them crossly, and he buries his face in his hands.

Merlin is on the verge of saying something again, but then Arthur lifts his head and stares at him with narrowed eyes. Merlin, in turn, does his best to look innocent—which is harder than he expected, considering he still feels a little like he's just run a marathon halfway across the city.

"Don't think you're not going to be explaining all this," Arthur says crossly, poking him in the chest with his index finger. "Honestly, Merlin. Sometimes, it's like you _want_ me to drop dead of a heart attack."

"I do not." Merlin glares at him. "Look, if anything, this whole situation is your fault! You're the one who bought the egg to begin with!"

"How was I supposed to know it was an _actual_ dragon egg?! I bought it because I saw it in the shop and I thought it would fit perfectly with this whole… _style_ you've got going on." Arthur looks like he's going to start laughing again any second now. "The magic, I've long since come to terms with—not that you bothered to tell me about that either, you fiend—but how in the world was I to know that magical creatures also exist?"

"I mean, it's not that much of a stretch," Merlin says drily, as though he wasn't thinking the exact same thing mere moments ago. When Arthur glares at him, he deflates. "All right, fine. So maybe it would have been a bit of a stretch. And it's not like you could have known considering you— Wait, hang on! Since when do you know about my magic?"

Arthur's raised eyebrows speak for themselves. He must be taking lessons from Gaius, because Merlin doesn't know how else he could have learned to make them look so judgemental. Really, the sight of them rising so high up on his forehead almost has Merlin ducking his head in apology. He doesn't, though, because no. He won’t give Arthur the satisfaction.

"Maybe you should be more careful when you're washing the dishes," Arthur says, his tone just as dry as Merlin's. Merlin doesn't immediately understand what Arthur is referring to. Arthur's been over at his house so often that there were _many_ opportunities for him to catch Merlin using magic. He would never in his life admit it, but he has got a bit careless ever since he’s started living on his own.

And then he remembers the one time— _one_ _time_ —he couldn’t be bothered to wash the dishes with his own two hands when Arthur was spending the night at his. But Merlin was so _certain_ he’d been asleep!

Arthur rushed off in the morning soon after waking up, not even bothering with a goodbye. He called later, to explain that something happened at his place of work and he had to get there as soon as he could. Merlin thought it was weird at the time, especially considering Arthur spent the next few days avoiding him, but then he showed up on the weekend, pizza and an apology in hand.

"You've known for so many months and you never said anything?"

"I was waiting for _you_ to say something, though I'm starting to suspect you never would have." Arthur stares at him, eyebrows _still_ raised. When Merlin's only response is to open and close his mouth in an uncanny imitation of a fish, Arthur sighs and pulls away.

Hesitantly, he raises one hand and lets it hover right in front of Aithusa. She sniffs at it once, then looks to Merlin for permission to move. When he nods, she scrabbles up Arthur's sleeve the same way she did Merlins a few minutes ago. She sits first on one shoulder, then moves over to the next—almost as though she's trying to figure out which one is more comfortable—before giving up and climbing onto the top of Arthur's head, heedless of his grunts of discomfort. She spreads her wings to either side of her body, making Arthur look like he’s wearing a strange hat.

"She's an actual dragon," Merlin whispers, staring at the picture Aithusa and Arthur make. Then he panics. "How do you take care of a dragon? I don't know what they eat or how to raise them or—"

"Merlin," Arthur interrupts, catching one of Merlin's hands in his own. He smiles at him crookedly. "It'll be fine. Is there anyone you know who has knowledge on dragons?"

Merlin starts to shake his head, but then rethinks and nods instead.

"My da," he confesses, ducking his head. "Mum always said he likes them just as much as I do, so I would assume…" he trails off, looking up at Arthur uncertainly, grateful to be met with sympathy instead of pity. "But I don't want to see him." Not after Balinor abandoned them so many years ago.

Arthur nods before the words are even out of Merlin's mouth. "What about the person who taught you magic. Surely, there had to be someone?"

"Gaius might know," Merlin suggests. "Or I could ask around, see if there are any books on magical creatures. Go visit the restricted sections of a few libraries. But what about the meantime? I can't leave her all alone, Arthur, and I have to work."

He's gnawing on his bottom lip again. It's a horrid habit, and yet he can't seem to break it.

"Well, that part's easy enough to solve," Arthur says with a smile. "I'll stay with you."

Merlin squawks and stumbles to his feet. Arthur watches him, and his smile begins to slip the longer Merlin goes without answering.

"I mean, not that I would presume to… I mean, I… " Arthur backtracks, the shoulders in his muscles tensing more and more with each word that comes out of his mouth. "I—"

"Of course you can stay," Merlin rushes to reassure him. "I mean, you practically live here anyway, and after the… Well. After the kiss." He flushes and snaps his mouth shut before he can say anymore, but Arthur knows him well enough to figure out where Merlin was going.

"Would it be too presumptuous to ask if I could start spending the night in your bed instead of the guest bedroom?"

"No." Merlin swallows quickly. "Not presumptuous at all. But, um. You realise Aithusa is probably going to want to sleep with us? I mean, she's only tiny, and I don't want her to have to spend the night alone."

"Cockblocked by a dragon," Arthur says, rolling his eyes skyward. He laughs when Aithusa peeks down at him with a toothy grin. "What on earth are we going to do with you?"

And just for that, Aithusa leans down and nips the tip of his nose.


End file.
